Chapter 32: Temperance Brennan's Last Stand

She'd say it was impossible, but Booth was pretty sure his heart stopped beating the moment she answered Sweets' question. He couldn't look at her, he had to remind himself to breathe. "It certainly confirms my belief that I should be alone." It had felt so good, the getting back to normal...he'd forgotten all the things that were wrong with normal. Just like that, he was back to wanting to hit Sweets- to hit Sweets and kill Hacker all over again.

"...I should be alone." He'd thought they were past that. He'd thought his gamble was finally paying off. He had refused to consider the possibility that he might lose. No. You know what? He still wouldn't consider the possibility. She was upset, traumatized. He would take this in stride. It was nothing he hadn't heard before, and he wouldn't start believing it just yet. He'd keep trying. He'd keep breathing. He looked at her, not bothering to hide the hurt and disappointment he felt. He was done with poker faces, they hadn't served him well. She wouldn't look back, though, so she didn't see. She kept her gaze on the psychologist, waiting for him to pounce. And he did.

oOo

Sweets studied her for a moment. Her statement had caught him off guard. It was so typical Brennan, but he hadn't thought he was dealing with typical Brennan anymore. He had been so sure there had been a shift. He was still sure. He recognized a last stand when he saw one, and his eyes gleamed. It was finally time. Let's do this.

"Alright, Dr. Brennan, let's talk about that. What about this situation makes you believe you should be alone?"

Brennan narrowed her eyes, ready to fight. "Dr. Sweets, I didn't say this situation makes me believe I should be alone. I was aware that I was not meant for long-term romantic involvements long before this. I simply said this confirms it. Apparently I'm incapable of selecting even short-term mates."

"So, you're saying that you you feel unable to select a mate?"

"Yes." She paused and looked at Booth. She turned back to Sweets, but it was obvious to everyone that her words were directed at her partner. "It's not just that. I don't believe I have the temperament to sustain a relationship. I've never been open-hearted...I...," she bit her lip. "Why does everyone think relationships are the superior state of being anyway? As far as I can tell, they consist mainly of human beings making promises they can't keep."

Sweets took a turn to glance at Booth. His eyes were down, he was silent. He wouldn't be joining the conversation; he was only here as an observer. Still, the psychologist knew they were in this together.

Trying to pump himself up, Sweets returned his attention to Brennan, zeroing in on a weakness. "You're not open-hearted. That's an interesting insight, Dr. Brennan. If I understand you correctly, what you're trying to say is that you avoid relationships to protect other people...because you can't fully love them. Is that correct?"

Brennan was beginning to wish she was back at the lab. "Why are we talking about this?"

"Because you wanted to, Dr. Brennan." Sweets was emphatic. "You started this. So let me ask you something else, where does this leave Angie?"

Brennan's head snapped up, her eyes flashing. Booth leaned forward, his gaze alternating between Brennan and Sweets. "What do you mean? Angie has nothing to do with this."

Sweets smiled in the condescending way he knew she despised. He was sorry to bait her, but the time for walking on eggshells had long since passed. "This has everything to do with Angie. You've just told me that she has a closed-hearted mother. You've protected potential romantic partners, but you didn't find it necessary to protect a defenseless little girl. You made her promises. What happens, Dr. Brennan, if one day you decide that you just can't keep them?"

Booth drew in a deep breath, his best effort at keeping himself from jumping in and putting an end to this conversation. What Sweets said had to hurt her. Hell, it hurt him, but she didn't need the calvary. She needed to figure this out on her own...though that didn't stop him from shooting Sweets a look that let him know there would be consequences, serious consequences, if this went wrong.

Brennan considered Sweets' question. Deep down, she knew. She knew what he was trying to do. There was a part of her that didn't want to play along, that wanted to roll her eyes, stand up and walk out the door. That part was strong, familiar. There was another part, though, a newer part, that was curious. That wanted to find out where this could lead. She'd never say it out loud, but he was right. They were having this conversation because she wanted to have it. Because it was time. She answered with conviction. "I won't."

"But you've always maintained that you can't be sure, that human behavior is too unpredictable to be able to trust promises."

"I won't. I promised her. I'll keep my promises, Dr. Sweets. Parents are different."

Sweets tried to calm the cheering going on in his head. This was going just as he'd always hoped it someday would. He hoped his sweaty palms weren't too obvious when he leaned in and asked, "What if she decides she doesn't love you? A child like Angie is bound to have attachment issues for the rest of her life. You never know when something like that will manifest. It's very unpredictable. What if she can never fully love you back?"

Brennan flashed back to a long ago morning, hiding on the stairs, listening to people who wanted to let her ago because she couldn't accept what they had to offer. Her words were fierce. "It. Won't. Matter. It won't matter. A child is not a puppy, Dr. Sweets, something you bring into your life for all it can offer you. What Angie does or doesn't feel for me is irrelevant. I've promised to parent her. I've promised to love her. I will. I'm the parent."

This was it. This was the moment. The dam Sweets had always known was there? He knew how to break it. He was finally sure she wouldn't drown. He spoke gently, almost regretfully, when he asked, "But surely you don't believe that there's anything special about parents, that they are somehow exempt from making promises they can't keep?"

She clenched her teeth, braced herself. "What are you trying to say?"

Sweets spared another look at Booth, and he could tell the other man was a breath away from whisking his partner out of the room, to somewhere safe. Sweets tried to let him know with his eyes that he meant no harm, to give him credit...to give her credit. The agent's tense posture made it impossible to tell if he'd received or accepted the message, so Sweets said a little prayer before making his next move.

"Well, Dr. Brennan, you only have to look as far as your own parents. They left you alone, save an older brother. And come on, they must have realized he was a flight risk."

The dangerous exhalation of breath from across the desk let Sweets know that Booth was not pleased, but the psychologist had come too far. The anthropologist had come too far. Sweets carefully avoided looking in Booth's direction, keeping his eyes trained on Brennan.

"They were trying to protect me," she stammered, "...they loved me...and it doesn't matter anymore."

Sweets ignored that last part. It still mattered. Of course it did. If he hadn't already known it, the pain in her voice that even she couldn't hide would have given her away. He asked his next question kindly. "Would you ever leave Angie?"

"It's not the same thing." She no longer sounded very sure.

"What if Agent Booth hadn't been able to kill Hacker? What if he had gotten away? What if he was still after you and wouldn't give up?"

"Useless conjecture. None of that happened."

"Dr. Brennan." Sweets' tone let her know he wouldn't be deterred. "Would you abandon Angie to protect her?"

She pursed her lips, the muscles in her face twitching with the strain of all she was trying not to release. Finally, the effort became more than she could bear. "No! No, I wouldn't. It wouldn't protect her, it would hurt her."

"But you would be doing it out of love, to keep her safe."

Brennan was shaking her head. She knew they were no longer talking only about Angie, but she couldn't make herself care. She was lost to the moment. "She wouldn't understand," she whispered.

"But she would when she got older."

Brennan gave Sweets a hard stare. "No, she wouldn't. How could she? It would be wrong. She would know there had to have been another way. She would know that if she were worth it, another solution would have been found. You don't just leave children unprotected. You don't leave the people you love without anyone who's willing to fight for them. She would know."

Sweets wanted to cry for the second time that morning, but there wasn't time yet. He still had work to do. "Right, she would know. So, Dr. Brennan, isn't it fair to say that your parents failed at loving you?"

She was tired. She couldn't look at him. She wanted to be in the lab. "It doesn't matter."

But everyone in the room knew better.

"It matters, Dr. Brennan. It matters, because you're not really trying to protect other people by keeping them at a distance. I don't think you doubt your capacity to love at all, much less your capacity to keep a promise." He sensed the beginning of her rejection, and continued on before she could derail him. "You're not an easy person to know. I think you're that way on purpose. I think you pride yourself on it. There is something, though, that you just can't keep hidden, and that's your integrity. If I know nothing else about you, Dr. Brennan, I know this: You never would have agreed to take in that little girl unless you were certain she could count on you. Which means, it's not you that you don't trust. You may say you're trying to protect others, but I think you're really trying to protect yourself. Your parents failed at loving you, and you think that has something to do with who you are. You are a scientist, looking for cause and effect, looking for patterns...and you think you've found it. You think everyone will fail at loving you. But what if your parents' failure had nothing to do with who you are, and everything to do with who they were? Every pattern has its anomalies, Dr. Brennan. I just wish you would consider that maybe your parents were the anomaly."

oOo

She needed to leave. Sweets had called Russ a flight risk. Well, it must have been genetic. She had taken the conversation as far as she was willing to let it go. Booth hadn't said anything, but she could tell he was uncomfortable, that he was struggling to stay in his chair. As usual, she wasn't sure of the why. She was sure, however, that she wanted to end the session and put them both out of their misery. She stood to leave the room, and she knew her partner was following her. She didn't turn back, so she missed the look that passed between the agent and the psychologist. She didn't see that all was forgiven.

They rode the elevator in silence, and Booth walked with her out of the Hoover. She could have asked him why, considering that she hadn't depended on him for a ride today, but she didn't. It felt nice to be followed.

Booth squinted up at the bright sky, trying to decide how to proceed. She seemed torn down, and all he wanted in the world was for her to feel like smiling. So he went with a joke. An obvious one, something about psychologists and blaming the parents. She laughed, even though it wasn't really funny. He took it as a good sign, she must be looking for a reason to smile.

"Max loves Angie, you know."

"I know, Bones. He's great with her."

"She loves him back."

"I can tell."

They had been walking, but she stopped and turned to face him. "I'm happy for him. I'm glad that he gets the opportunity to love her."

"You don't begrudge him his chance at redemption."

"Exactly."

They walked for a few more blocks until she stopped again. "My mother went to the movies."

He remembered the ticket they found years ago. She wouldn't look at him this time, but he grabbed her hand. "I know, Bones."

"That...it always...it bothered me. It bothers me. I really do understand why she left, why she thought it would be best for me to leave me behind. I...it was a rational decision...I understand...but...," she turned to look at him, still holding tightly to his hand, "...But I've never been able to understand her going to the movies. I think, if it's possible, I understand it less now than I did before. How could she do it, Booth? How could she walk away, yet still have the desire to go to the movies? How could she sit through a summer blockbuster, knowing her children were out there somewhere, without her. I don't understand. How could she do it?"

The lack of comprehension in her eyes nearly broke him. And he didn't have an answer. He had nothing, nothing that could make this hurt her any less. All he had was the truth. "I don't know, Bones."

"You couldn't do it to Parker." It was a statement, not a question. She didn't expect a reply. She didn't need one. "I couldn't do it to Angie."

He squeezed her hand, and they continued on toward the Jeffersonian. When they reached the steps, he began to pull his hand from hers, preparing to return to where he belonged. Just as the tips of his fingers were skimming past hers, he decided it was time to let her know he'd never really given up on gambling.

He leaned in to kiss the side of her head, then he moved his lips down to her ears. "I wouldn't, you know," he whispered.

Her forehead crinkled, but she didn't pull away. "Wouldn't what?" she asked softly.

He smiled against her ear. "Fail at loving you."

He was gone before she could react, practically skipping down the stairs. She was alone, left to consider whether or not that was how she wanted it to always be.

TBC